


Fahliil, Dovah, Lah

by Veryyns



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Characters to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 19:35:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19091680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veryyns/pseuds/Veryyns
Summary: As the youngest ambassador in the Aldmeri Dominion, Irien has been sent to the cold province of Skyrim as a test of her abilities.But after a dragon flies over the fort she is about to attack and destroys it,  she comes to realize that what she has grown up with is not going to be a good fighting strategy.It seems even more of a bad idea after she absorbs its soul.





	Fahliil, Dovah, Lah

**Author's Note:**

> So this is kind of based off that mod that lets you start pick a different start to the game except the name of it escapes me so yeah. Alos i wanted to explore thalmor dragonborn who is trying to figure stuff out.

Irien smoothed out her robes, hands trembling as the cold air bit at her cheeks.

But she knew the trembling wasn’t from the cold.

She had been up for hours now, having folded and unfolded her uniform until she had eventually put the damn thing on. The sleeves were different then the usual Thalmor robes, and she left the pair of gloves on the wooden dresser. Had she been back home, the dresser would have been made of ivory, one of the many luxuries she had been given after…

Giving a shake of her head, she rolled up her sleeves and put on the ornate gloves, trying to calm herself.

She had no idea why she was so frazzled...

The gloves weren't standard Thalmor, but enough that they matched the robes and hopefully meant that Elenwen would leave her alone about them.

_You’re crippling yourself Irien. It would not do well for the last of the Undaunted to be killed because of the way she wields magic, hmm?_

She knew her aunt meant well, but it did get rather tiresome after a while. Besides, the type of magic she used was more of a last resort, and she was perfectly capable of doing regular magic with gloves on thank you very much.

Sometimes it felt like her aunt pretended it was the only magic she knew, as though she hadn't taught her the many spells she had in her arsenal.

The knock at the door startled her, and she quickly pulled up her hood before answering. It opened and a maid entered, dark hair pulled tight into a bun.

“Lady Elenwen has requested your presence this morning, Lady Irien.” The breton bowed slightly, ignoring the formal use of Justicar and Ambassador. Irien could care less, and the woman knew it.

“I-yes, she would this early, wouldn’t she? Thank you, Gwyvyn.” The woman was the closest thing that the young altmer had to an acquaintance, even if all she seemed to be here for was whatever valuables the Thalmor agents had brought with them. They had potentially found common ground however.

It was Talos, surprisingly.

Both didn’t believe he was a god, but both were of the mindset that the nords should have been left to worship him. She was also the only one to know just how young she actually was, besides her aunt, and that she had only reached twenty a few months ago. However much of what the breton said that was true was always up for debate. Besides, it was nice to vent to someone, and even if the Thalmor were to believe her, they were not in the Summerset Ilse.

Another had been that they grew up with their life dictated for them, and had been pushed to follow their families. The difference there was that Gwyvyn had left her family, and ended up in Skyrim as a result.  

Irien had loved her parents to much to do so, but the path had changed anyway.

Perhaps that was why they had-

No.

She needed to focus. There was no use dwelling on the past.

The gentle touch against her arm brought her back, and the soft gaze of Gwyvyn met hers.

“Right- I- um. I’ll just-” Making a noise of frustration, the high elf rubbed at her eyes, before turning towards the door and stomping out. A bit childish perhaps, but the boots muffled some of the noise and she was far too tired to care much about it. These past few weeks in the embassy had been tense and awkward. What she did not understand about the whole debacle was why they were there in the first place. They had, in all rights to be honest, won the war. Skyrim meant nothing to them, even with the uprising.

In fact, if this rebellion did succeed, all the better for them.

So why were they here in the first place…?

She did lighten the step as she got closer to the first floor, where she ignored the guards mutter of ‘Your Ladyship’. Elewen was not far, closer to the door then she had realized.

“Irien.” She greeted, rising from her seat with as much grace as she could while trying to fight the shivers all of them had been having. Her and most of the other Justicars had considered warming spells to be ‘pointless’ and a ‘waste of energy’. That excuse had turned to a ‘waste of energy’ once they had arrived in Skyrim. There was no denying the winter chill that blew throughout the embassy, and the fact that there would still be snow up here come summer was not sitting well with any of them.

She reveled in that petty little victory.

“Elenwen,” She cautiously replied, crossing her arms behind the small of her back.

“To what do I owe the pleasure this… morning” she trailed of, rejecting the word fine as to be completely honest, it wasn’t.

“I, or rather the Legion, have a task for you. The ‘Empire’ has not been able to recapture a key Fort from some bandits, and I’ve become tired of hearing them go on and on about it every time they have come up to the embassy, or we have gone to that ‘palace’.” Irien perked up at that. Was she saying what she thought she was saying…?

“I want you to go and clear it out. Make an example while you do so, let all of Skyrim know of the power of the Thalmor.” So a minor display-

But killing bandits was an entirely different matter, not to mention the fact that any of the Nords who fought in the war would know what they were capable of, along with those they told stories to.

It wasn’t the killing part because even though she had had no part in the war, her constant adventures away from headquarters back home had put her in a dangerous position, one where the few bandits of the isles had tried to rob her.

It was her first kill, and the main reason for so many sleepless nights.

But bandits?

It was so… easy.

To easy in fact. How could the Imperials not be able to defeat them?

 _They are stretched fairly thin,_ the Altmer considered, _or there is more to it than they are able to handle_.

“Of course Elenwen. I will leave once I gather a few supplies.” Had she been anyone else and she would’ve been sent immediately. But her relation, both to Elenwen and her parents, gave her some advantages, such as gathering equipment here as opposed to in Solitude. To be quite honest, her odds of being able to get any supplies in the capital were… slim, to say the least

Decent ones at least.

“Make sure you’re gone before the hour is up, understood?”

“Understood."

“Good. Dismissed.” With a nod of respect she calmly walked up the stairs, nearly squealing as she reached her room.

Finally, finally!

After weeks of being stuck in this embassy, she was finally going out into the field. If luck went her way, then maybe she wouldn't need to kill any bandits either.

...Well, she doubted she could reason with them, even if she had been a nord.

She scurried to her room, nearly running into Gwyvyn as the Breton left it.

“S-sorry Gwyvyn” Irien slipped past the woman, grabbing at several herbs and arrows that she tucked into one of the robes insulated pockets. Grabbing the ‘official’ gloves and sliding them on, she tucked the sleeves into them as best she could. She hoped it would insulate them enough to keep out the worst of the chill as the warming spell wore off. Vaguely aware of the woman behind her, she tilted her head in acknowledgment at her name.

"Irien."

"Mmm?" 

“Are you Thalmor leaving already.” She paused at the icy tone, noting it was far more aggressive than usual. Gwyvyn had never spoken to her like that, not even in their banters that had grown loud. And a glance at her expression made it clear she was serious.

“Ah, no. Just me. I’m afraid you’ll still have to deal with auntie-”

“Oh for the love of Mara. I spent all this time being nice to you, and now you’re leaving without giving me anything in return? You best be giving something, or I’ll let your ‘Auntie’-” the thief crooned the words, tone bitter, “-of your opinion on Talos and the Stormcloaks.”

A moment of silence passed, before Irien laughed. The glare turned into a scowl as she laughed harder.

“Oh Gwyvyn, you are so funny! I must admit, the Thieves Guild-” a look of terror came over the Bretons scowl “-are quite bold to send you, and you are quite smart for playing this game so well. But dear, I knew who you were the second I came through that door. So, if you would empty your pockets, I would suggest putting everything back before Yvlet gets a hold of the catalog and realizes exactly what’s missing, and recognizes you too.” She shouldered past the gob struck Breton, shoving her aside with no care.

“And if you were to tell Auntie of our chats, you won’t have time to return everything. Who do you think they’ll believe. You, a Breton from the thieves guild who was caught with what little valuables we brought and in a desperate bid tells them that, or Me? The niece of our fair ambassador, someone who's parents names mean something. Unlike yours.”

Adjusting her robes one last time, she made her back down the stairs, past the guards, and through the door, letting it slam behind her.

It would be a long time before she would be back.


End file.
